Pathway to Japanese Literature

Author: Tanaka Kōtarō

I

Construction Magistrate Ichiki Gonbee was inspecting the construction site, accompanied by a single subordinate.
That was the Murotsu Port construction site.
At Tosa’s southeastern tip—shaped like a chisel with a missing coastline—half a ri west of Muroto Misaki, colloquially called “Onose” (The Nose), lay an old port opened during the Kanbun era by Nonaka Kenzan, Tosa’s renowned political economist. Yet its cramped harbor permitted only fishing boats to enter. Thus, in Enpō 5 [1677], the domain resolved to establish a new port at Murotsu to its east and appointed Gonbee as Construction Magistrate.

The port referred to as Muroto Port, developed by Nonaka Kenzan, was recorded in the *Tosa Diary*: “On the twelfth day, with no rain […] we arrived at Muroto from Narashizu”—the same harbor where Ki no Tsurayuki had spent over ten days anchoring his ship. Later it came to be called Muroto Port, though it was now known as Tsuro Port.

When Kenzan had developed that Muroto Port, Gonbee had supervised the construction in his stead as Kenzan’s subordinate.

This Gonbee had been born in Fushida, Tosa District and had originally served as Kenzan’s page. Whenever Kenzan initiated civil engineering projects for the domain—reclaiming barren lands or channeling irrigation—Gonbee was always at his side, thus naturally acquiring those technical skills.

Upon receiving orders to establish the new port, Gonbee first constructed an embankment from the mouth of the Utsuro River out to sea. At the harbor entrance, he erected timber pilings and sank sandbags to carry out breakwater construction, while excavating the interior and planning for an east-west span of twenty-seven *ken* and a north-south span of forty-two *ken* to ensure a depth of approximately one *jō* at high tide. Yet as this was a port forcibly built upon a coast of fine sand, the work failed to advance as intended once construction finally commenced.

Gonbee was making his way toward the tip along the eastern embankment.
At fifty-two, his oblong face—stern and angular—had been tanned to persimmon-tanned paper hues by southern sunlight and sea winds. Salt-and-pepper hair lay worn thin against his scalp. Clad in a split-hem haori and Yoshitsune-style hakama, only his swords distinguished him from local fishermen.

It was past two o'clock in spring of Enpō 7 (1679).
Before them stretched an unbroken expanse of sapphire sea where waves crashed thunderous against embankments, spraying snow-like foam.
There between Muroto Misaki's leftward jut and Gyōtō Misaki's rightward hills curved a single inlet.
Within half-dried reddish tides inside the embankment, hundreds of laborers dug sand and shattered reefs—the grating scrape of shovels and stone-cracking thuds tangling with wave-roar to fray nerves.
Excavated sand and reef fragments crawled landward over embankments like ant-caravans hauling cargo.

Gonbee's fierce temperament showed upon his brow.
The difficult work that had stalled finally gained momentum; with the harbor's excavation fully completed by year's end, they had now begun crushing the final rock reef—yet unexpectedly, the stone proved too hard to shatter as planned.
Moreover, as this was construction work of that era, there was no way to break the rocks other than striking them one by one with iron hammers large and small, which itself became another reason why the reef demolition work refused to proceed as intended.

Outside the embankment, a flock of seagulls flew, their white wings dyed by the setting sun.
In the fields on land, pea flowers were blooming and wheat stalks were sprouting, but the sea wind was cold.
Gonbee dodged those carrying sand and reef fragments as he made his way.
Those carrying sand would load it into bamboo baskets and hoist them on shoulder poles, while those transporting reef fragments would place them into large wicker baskets and carry them between two people as they went.

“Heave-ho! Heave-ho!”

“Heavy, so heavy!”

“Don’t rush, don’t rush.”

“Even if we rush, it won’t break! Don’t rush, don’t rush!”

“He’s here! He’s here!”

“It’s terrifying! It’s terrifying!”

The subordinate accompanying Gonbee was a man named Takechi Sōnojō.
Sōnojō let the group with the wicker baskets pass by, then looked at Gonbee with a meaningful expression.

“Did you hear that?”
“What?”
“Regarding what the laborers just said—”

“What did they say?”
“They kept saying things like ‘It’s here’ and ‘It’s terrifying,’ but…”

“That? What is that?”

“That pertains to his Kettle Reef.”

Kettle Reef was a massive formation sprawled across the harbor’s mouth; crushing it alone would settle all remaining work.

“What happened to Kettle Reef?”

“These past few days, they’ve been saying all sorts of things—that his Kettle Reef cannot be broken because the Dragon King cherishes it, and even if one does break it, by morning it’s restored to how it was.”

“I see. So they’re saying such things.”

A sneer rose on Sōnojō’s face, which had also been tanned to the color of persimmon-tanned paper by the sun’s rays and sea breeze.

“But in this day and age, how could there be such things as gods or buddhas? It’s absurd!”

Gonbee halted in his tracks.

“Wait, wait—the blacksmith’s wife at Sakino Beach, the sea demons, Seven Men Cape, and even that thing everyone talks about—Kōbō Daishi’s stone potatoes—those may all be fabrications, but a true god exists!”

Sōnojō widened his eyes.

“Does it exist?”

“It does exist.”

Sōnojō said nothing more.
Sōnojō knew of Gonbee’s spiritually inclined nature.
Gonbee started walking.
Sōnojō also followed in silence.

II

A group of six or seven laborers approached from ahead. Since they were transporting reef fragments and he thought he must not obstruct them, Gonbee tried to shift his body aside to let them pass. At the front stood a large man carrying another laborer on his back; what seemed to be a scrap of undergarment wrapped around one hand hung down from the man's left shoulder. Behind him came a wicker basket borne on a shoulder pole, within which lay another laborer on his back, his head and one foot tightly swathed in cloth fragments. Looking closer, the cloth binding the laborer's head was soaked with fresh blood, while the visible portion of his face below the cheek had turned an ashen blue, drained of vitality.

“Oh, this—”

Gonbee’s eyes widened.
One of the stocky laborers standing beside the wicker basket saw this and stepped before Gonbee.
This was Matsuzō, one of the work crew foremen.

“What happened here?”

“He fell from the reef.”

“You mean he sustained such injuries from a mere fall?”

“It must have been ill fortune. There was an area below shaped like saw teeth—he landed upon that.”

“I see.”

The group had stopped before them.
Matsuzō looked at the hand wrapped in cloth fragments of the man being carried.

“Torama broke his hand.”
Then, looking toward the man laid in the basket, [he added,] “Ginroku broke his head.”

The laborer called Ginroku on the basket groaned faintly.
Gonbee looked at him with pitying eyes.

“How dreadful. Take them swiftly to the office and tend to their wounds.”

“Torama can be treated adequately here, but since Ginroku cannot receive treatment unless we take him to Yasuda, I think it best to bring both of them along.”

“I see. That’s good. Then let’s make haste.”

“That is correct.”
Matsuzō then focused his attention and said, “Then hurry along. Mr. Ango should stop by the office and get a calling card from Mr. Hayakawa on the way.”

The one called Ango was in the back.
That was a nearly sixty-year-old, emaciated old man.

“Certainly. Then let’s go.”

At Ango’s voice, the group began to walk.
Gonbee watched them depart intently.
Matsuzō drew right up to Gonbee.

“Master.”

Matsuzō’s voice was hushed, as though wary of being overheard.

“Hm.”

“Master, there’s someone saying strange things.”
“What manner of thing?”

“What manner of thing do you mean? It’s rather peculiar—has Master heard anything about it?”

Beside him was Sōnojō’s face.
Matsuzō cast his eyes toward Sōnojō.

“Has Lord Takechi not heard of this?”
Sōnojō had a look of curiosity in his eyes.
“Isn’t that it?”
“By ‘that,’ do you mean that?”

“It’s about the reef, isn’t it?”

“Have you inquired with several people?”

“I wouldn’t say I’ve heard it directly, but it must concern Kettle Reef.”

“That is correct.”
Then, looking at Gonbee, he added, “Have you heard about it, Master?”

Gonbee nodded.

“I just heard from Sōnojō, but has anyone actually witnessed anything concrete?”

“No one claims to have seen it themselves, but they’re saying strange things.”

“What are they saying?”

“They’re saying all manner of disjointed things—that when they strike a stone chisel into the reef, blood wells up; that sections they chipped away the previous day return to their original state by morning; that when some men walked across it late at night while drunk, they heard voices and followed the sound to find five or six young monks atop the reef muttering incomprehensible words, only for them to plunge into the water like otters when shouted at—such stories abound.”

“Hmm.”

“And these past few days, there’ve been injuries—so now they’re saying this reef must be where Lord Dragon King dwells, or that his disfavor has settled upon it.”

“I see.”

“There were injuries the day before yesterday and yesterday too—stone fragments getting in eyes, fingernails torn off, hands struck by hammers—nothing serious. But after today’s incident, everyone’s too frightened to work properly.”
“I was right there myself. The two of them had climbed to the reef’s peak and were breaking it with hammers when—suddenly—they dropped their tools and fell. That’s how it happened. But Ginroku… his life hangs by a thread.”

“This is truly regrettable—does he have parents?”
“He has a grandmother, a wife, and one child.”

“Do they have any fields?”

“They only have a postage stamp-sized vegetable garden, and since they make their living as fishermen—”

“I see. That is most unfortunate. We must ensure his family can manage after this—but that can wait. For now, we must focus on saving his life.”

“That is correct.”

“As for the one who broke his hand—he’s in no danger to his life, I trust?”

“If he goes to Yasuda’s jujutsu teacher, I don’t think it’ll take even a month.”

“However, this is pitiable. Take good care of him. Should any matters arise, I shall arrange them suitably.”

“Thank you most sincerely.”

Gonbee turned his gaze toward the mouth of the port.
There stood a massive rock reef shaped like a kettle, towering like a small mountain, but there was no sign of the workers.

“Well then, shall we go?”

Gonbee started walking.
Matsuzō and Sōnojō followed behind him.

III

Gonbee went up toward the upper part of Kettle Reef.
The workers had left Kettle Reef and were breaking the base of the reef on its right side, most of which had already been shattered.
There was a reddish-brown, murky tide that came up to the knees.

Thud, thud, thud.

Gonbee had been looking toward the workers laboring on the right-side reef, but soon shifted his gaze to Matsuzō.

“Matsuzō.”

“Yes?”

Matsuzō stepped forward to stand alongside Gonbee.
Gonbee stiffened.

“Matsuzō, the talk of blood seeping from rocks and little monks appearing—those are superstitions. Such things do not happen. But the gods do exist.”
“The gods do exist, but they would never commit wicked acts; they bestow blessings upon us humans and protect us for our benefit.”
“Therefore, those who do good deeds receive praise from the gods.”
“Since this port is being constructed for the sake of ships navigating Tosa’s rough seas, the gods would have no reason to rebuke us.”
“Recently, there have been no great storms or huge waves—this is proof that the gods are pleased.”
“Moreover, once this Kettle Reef is shattered, this construction will swiftly become a splendid port.”
“To build a splendid port even a single day sooner would only delight the gods; I do not believe they would rebuke us for it. What do you think?”

“Yes, sir.”

He had replied as such but could not give a proper response.
Sōnojō had to answer for Matsuzō.

“That is exactly as Lord Ichiki has stated.”
“The gods act solely for the sake of people; they are not beings who torment them. Therefore, they would never obstruct a port being built for people’s benefit.”

Gonbee nodded.

“That’s right, exactly as you say.”
Looking at Matsuzō, he said, “Matsuzō, do you understand?”

Even Matsuzō had come to vaguely grasp his meaning.

“I understand.”

“Then let there be no hesitation in shattering Kettle Reef!”

“That is indeed so.”

“If you’ve understood that, then tell everyone about it.”

“I’ll tell them. I will.”

“Tell them. Make them understand.”

“Yes, sir.”

Matsuzō descended the stone wall with a troubled look, as if he had collided with something unseen, but soon workers began converging around him from all directions. Among them were men clutching hammers. Gonbee and Sōnojō watched in silence.

About fifty workers gathered around Matsuzō, forming a tight circle with their heads clustered together. He had just begun speaking when, moments later, one among them suddenly gaped his mouth open, baring yellowed teeth—likely mid-laugh at some unheard jest. Gonbee fixed them with a piercing stare. Before his gaze could take full effect, the workers broke from Matsuzō’s side and scattered like startled birds. Sōnojō spoke up to his superior.

“It seems the talk has concluded, but...”
“Hmm.”

Gonbee did not take his eyes off the workers.
Sōnojō also turned his gaze toward them.
The workers went back to the right-side reef and began thudding away with their hammers, but no one tackled Kettle Reef.

“They do not seem to be tackling it. Do you suppose they fail to grasp your words?”

“They don’t understand—this is troubling.”

“They are foolish ones, so they do not grasp the logic of things.”

“Hmm.”

Gonbee closed his eyes.
Sōnojō fell silent.
From the land side came someone clattering along the top of the embankment.
It was Takeshi—a sturdy young man who served as an errand boy at the construction magistrate’s office.

“Master! Master Ichiki!”

Takeshi was breathing heavily, his forehead soaked with sweat.
Gonbee looked at Takeshi.

“What is it?”

“Far from an errand—it’s the lord!”

Gonbee opened his eyes wide.

“What? The lord?”

“Twenty or thirty of them riding horses—like the tutelary deity’s divine procession.”

“Has the lord arrived?”

“Whether it’s the lord or an anglerfish, I don’t know, but they say they’ve come from Kōchi castle town.”

“Truly? If that’s true, I must go welcome him.”

“Mr. Hayakawa said to go quickly and call him over! Mr. Hayakawa was flapping his toothless mouth and panicking!”

“Don’t spout nonsense.”

Gonbee scolded him and hurried toward land.
At that moment, the group of laborers who had been carrying sand and reef fragments—having noticed something unusual ashore—were all glancing toward land while muttering among themselves.
Gonbee slipped through the laborers and headed toward land.

On the sandy beach of the shore, patches of sea lavender grew here and there.
The area formed a gentle slope that culminated in a pine grove where the construction magistrate’s office stood.
Ahead of the magistrate’s office lay a low hill bearing a temple called Risshō-ji, though this temple remained hidden from view when looking from the beach.
This Risshō-ji served as the twenty-fifth sutra-submission site on the Shikoku Pilgrimage—a branch temple of Murotsu Kannon-ji situated at the base of Muroto Cape’s hills—and was commonly known by its local name Tsudera.

Gonbee went as far as near the magistrate’s office.
There were two horses there, and beside them stood two warriors in traveling attire wearing conical hats; alongside them were two or three of Gonbee’s subordinates.
Gonbee hurried to the side of the conical-hatted warriors.
One of the warriors was Harumi Koemon, the Domain Elder.

“Is this Lord Harumi?”

“Oh, Gonbee.”

“I have heard that His Lordship has arrived. You must be quite weary from the journey.”

“Well, His Lordship suddenly decided to travel incognito—we departed the castle town this morning. It’s quite a distance.”

“Since it is twenty ri, you must be quite weary from the journey. And His Lordship—?”

“He has proceeded directly to Tō-ji Temple.”

Tō-ji Temple referred to Murotsu Kannon-ji, which served as the twenty-fourth sutra-submission site on the Shikoku Pilgrimage and was where the monk Kūkai had practiced Zen meditation and esoteric rituals in his youth.

“In that case, I shall now go to inquire after His Lordship’s well-being.”

“You need not come today. It has been decided that His Lordship will arrive here tomorrow.”

“Is that so? Then shall I refrain today?”

“That would be best.”
Then, with a mocking look in his eyes, he jutted his chin toward the port and said, “Gonbee, that looks like a half-dug pond over there. Should we stock it with koi or crucian carp?”

It seemed to mock both the futility of establishing an unnecessary port and the construction delays that prevented it from becoming one.
Koemon looked at the accompanying warrior.
That was Ōshima Masahira, an honorable mounted guard.

“Masahira, what do you think?”

Masahira smiled faintly.

“Indeed.”

“Or perhaps we should stock it with eternal fish?” Glancing at Gonbee, he added, “Once heavy rain comes, it’ll make a proper pond.”

Gonbee clearly understood the meaning of Koemon’s words.
Gonbee fell into deep thought.
Koemon and Masahira immediately went to their horses and mounted them.

“Gonbee—put your back into digging that pond.”

By the time Gonbee recovered from his surprise and moved to offer a formal bow, the horses were already in motion.
Sōnojō—who had been trailing Gonbee and waiting at a measured distance—now drew near.

“What has become of His Lordship?”

Gonbee said nothing.

IV

Gonbee was in his room within the Construction Magistrate’s office.
The room was about eight tatami mats in size, with tatami flooring and shōji screens installed, but its plank-covered walls gave it the appearance of a mountain hut.
On one side of the room were folded futons stacked, a wicker trunk containing clothing placed beside them, and an armor chest positioned nearby; on a narrow alcove of about three shaku hung a hanging scroll of the Great Shrine of Amaterasu, beneath which stood a new tokkuri bottle adorned with fresh sakaki branches.
Gonbee stood beside the small desk before the alcove.
On the small desk lay several horizontally bound volumes made from two sheets of hanshi paper folded in half.

Gonbee sat with a face etched in resolve, lost in thought, when suddenly, as if struck by an idea, he clapped his hands.
Then, a reply came from nearby, and a man peered out from the boarded corridor.
He was a subordinate named Isoyama Seikichi—a sturdy, small-statured man.

“Did you call for me?”

“I did.”

“Do you have orders?”

“Is Sōnojō present?”

“He went out toward the beach—do you require something?”

“Then it need not be Sōnojō. We’ll perform the deity’s ritual—fetch an unpainted wooden platform. Ah, use the one we made at the project’s commencement. Obtain pheasants or copper pheasants if possible—if unavailable, procure two chickens: a hen and rooster. As we likely lack mandarins or persimmons, gather three or four field crops—potatoes or daikon will suffice.”
“We also require ritual wands—consult with the others and prepare them.”

“When will the ritual be held?”
“We’ll hold it tonight without delay—make haste.”
“Where will it be held?”

“At the mouth of the port.”
“When the offerings are ready, set up a curtain at the mouth of the port and make the preparations.”
“Understood.”
As Seikichi was about to leave, Gonbee stopped him.
“Wait.”

“Yes.”

“Also, orient the offering platform toward the open sea—that is, face it toward the sea.”

“Understood.”

“Just do it as we did at the start of construction. If there’s anything you don’t understand, Sōnojō knows. Ask Sōnojō.”

“Understood.”

“And also, prepare the torches.”

The sun was on the verge of setting.
Seikichi hurried out.
Gonbee crossed his arms and sank into deep thought.
Takeji clomped down the hallway.

“Master, the bath is ready.”

Gonbee lifted his face.

“The bath?”

“Others are waiting their turn—you should bathe promptly.”

“I’ll not enter today. Have Mr. Imai use it instead.”

“But His Lordship has come—you ought to cleanse yourself properly.”

Takeji left while still muttering something.
Gonbee twisted his lips into a wry smile but immediately sank back into deep thought.

At that moment, a conch horn's blast began sounding from the beach direction.
It was the signal ordering the laborers to halt their work.
Laborers who had stopped working came clambering up, raising a boisterous clamor.
Among them were locals, men from neighboring villages, and others who had journeyed from distant regions to dwell in temporary shacks.

5

Before long, night fell.
The night was dark because there was no moon.
When the hour grew past eight that night, a torch’s flame began burning at the embankment’s tip.
There knelt Gonbee Masatoshi—clad in armor forged by Myochin Nagato no Kami Masakazu and brocade hakama trousers, with a greatsword by Soshu Yukimitsu at his side—before an altar arranged facing the sea.
Surrounding it hung purple curtains emblazoned with the Ichiki family crest.

“I beseech you to accept this body of mine as sacrifice and grant your divine mercy to remove Kettle Reef.”

The subordinates, having been instructed by Gonbee, had not a single person nearby.

“I beseech you to remove this reef as soon as possible and grant your aid to all those who traverse these wild seas.”
“My life, thus offered as a sacrifice, would bear no resentment even were you to claim it at once.”

Gonbee devoted himself to prayer alone until morning.

When the morning sun began to rise brightly from off the coast of Muroto Misaki, the laborers gathered.

The laborers were attempting to reach their assigned positions by proceeding along the embankments on both sides.
The approximately fifty or sixty laborers working on the reef came near the altar to descend from there.
Seeing this, Gonbee unfastened one side of the curtain and revealed himself.
The laborers widened their eyes in surprise at the sight of the warrior in armor.

“Ah.”

“What’s all this?”

“Who goes there?”

“His armored warrior—”

Gonbee snapped open the war fan at his waist.
It was a fan with a red sun disc.

“Come.”

The laborers, having realized it was Gonbee, approached with relief.
Gonbee had a composed face.

“Listen well, everyone. Since this Kettle Reef refuses to break, I have offered my body to the Dragon King. Let him take this life of mine at any hour he pleases—I care not—so long as he allows the reef to be removed with all haste. From last night past eight o’clock until now, I have devoted my prayers without sleeping a wink. You need not concern yourselves further.”

A whisper arose among the laborers.
Gonbee adjusted his breathing.

“Moreover, His Lordship has been concerned about this construction work and came here incognito yesterday; thus, today he will arrive to conduct an inspection.”
“Therefore, everyone must renew your resolve and approach this with fresh determination! You will face no reprimand—should any blame arise, it falls upon me.”

The laborers’ eyes came alive.
Gonbee brandished his war fan.

“Now then, charge, charge!”

The laborers raised a roar of cheers and rushed down with vigor.
Sōnojō, along with five or six subordinates, had arrived.
Sōnojō stepped forward.

“Lord Ichiki, you must be exhausted. Now, please have your meal.”

“The meal can wait. Tidy up here.”

There, Sōnojō and the subordinates folded the curtains and began tidying the altar.
Gonbee looked down toward Kettle Reef.

From the direction of Kettle Reef came vigorous thudding sounds.
Mingling with them rose the gritty scrape of sand being dug.
The clusters of bamboo baskets and sieves once again began moving shoreward like ants.

Mackerel clouds had materialized unnoticed in the sky, streaming toward Yukato Misaki like woven netting.
Then a cheer erupted from Kettle Reef's direction.
It carried the timbre of pure workman's triumph.
Gonbee's gaze sharpened.
The stone-crashing noises halted as several figures came into view there—arms raised in jubilation.

The thudding sounds began to be heard once more.
Gonbee was still looking toward Kettle Reef.
Then, another cheer rose from there.
An elderly subordinate named Imai Budayū came to his side.

“What might that be?”

Budayū had poor eyesight and couldn’t see far.
Gonbee knew that.

“The reef is coming away nicely, isn’t it?”

“Is that so? That is most excellent news.”

“I see.”

Two laborers climbed up the stone wall.
They were Matsuzō, the foreman, and Toratarō, another foreman.
Matsuzō was grinning.

“Master, it’s thanks to the gods!”

“I see. Is it breaking?”

“It’s breaking steadily! You heard their war cry just now, didn’t you?”

“It rose.”

“That’s what it was, Master. At first, a piece as big as a calf whale broke off.”

“Plenty of calf whales, eh? Well, well—that’s good.”

“At this rate, if we keep at it for ten days, it’ll break apart completely.”

“It’s a massive reef—it won’t give way quickly—but once we establish a foothold, all will hold firm.”

VI

Gonbee woke upon hearing the second rooster.
The previous evening had been utterly still with no wind at all, making it stiflingly hot and impossible to sleep properly, but since they were due to leave Murotsu, he forced himself up, ate breakfast, and departed straightaway.

Outside was still dim, but the air hung cold and sharp.
Gonbee loaded two horses with hand luggage and set out accompanied by several subordinates.
Among these subordinates was Sōnojō.

Gonbee, now that the troublesome Kettle Reef had been removed and the construction work had progressed unexpectedly smoothly and was nearing completion, was hurrying back to report to the Kochi Domain office.
At that time, the corvée labor force required by Gonbee for the excavation of the new port amounted to 1,730,000 man-days, and the cost was 102,500 ryō.
This was referred to as Next Construction in contrast to Nakabori Construction - Nonaka Kenzan’s renovation of the old port during the Kan’ei period.
That port is now called Murotsu Port.

Perhaps the open sea was rough, for there was a disturbance in the sound of the waves.
Gonbee called out to Sōnojō, who was walking alongside him.

“It’s hot today.”

“Indeed, sir. The sound of those waves is quite deceptive.”

“Exactly. The sound of the waves is the problem.”

On the right side of the sandy path stood rows of small thatched-roof fishermen’s houses, while on the left side stretched thickets of reeds and miscellaneous trees.
At the fishermen’s houses, there were already places where people were up and lighting fires.

“They’re up early after all.”

“Up until now, there was work with the construction, but from here on out, they’ll have to go fishing without any guarantee of a catch, so they can’t rest easy.”

“But if they catch fish, wouldn’t a single day’s haul equal a month’s corvée labor?”

“But that doesn’t go so smoothly, which is why fishermen have been poor since time immemorial—it’s been their lot, as they say.”

“I see. That might be so.”

The group had left the settlement of Murotsu and were approaching that of Ukitsu.
At that moment, a small old man came out from a fisherman’s house on the right and looked up at the sky.

“They’re at it already—shall we cast a net while it’s still morning?”

That concerned hauling a dragnet.
As Gonbee and Sōnojō drew near, the old man—startled—retreated into his house, but from within,

“The construction magistrate’s officials are headin’ back.”

A voice had been heard uttering—
Sōnojō laughed.

“Don’t you recognize him? That man was one who came for corvée-labor to twist ropes.”

“I see—I hadn’t noticed—but that’s the old man with the flattened nose.”

No sooner had he uttered “old man?” than Gonbee’s body gave way and collapsed.
Sōnojō, startled, rushed to his side.

“What has happened to you?”

Gonbee had collapsed with his right side down.

“Lord Ichiki—steady your mind, Lord Ichiki!”
Sōnojō crouched down and placed his hand on Gonbee’s shoulder. “What’s happened to you?”

Gonbee twisted his body and turned face down.

“My whole body has gone numb.”

“You’re numb—are you ill?”

“It might be an illness, but this is strange.”

“Could it be something you ate that disagreed with you?”

“I ate the same things as you all—nothing else. If it were something disagreeing, you all should be in the same state.”

“That is indeed so.”
“In that case, let me administer a restorative.”

“Right—there’s a restorative in my inrō. Take it out.”

“Very well.”

The accompanying subordinates had also come near and were watching Gonbee with worried expressions.
Sōnojō noticed them.

“I would like you to fetch some water.”

One of the subordinates went to that old man’s house.
Sōnojō took the medicine case fastened at Gonbee’s waist and removed medicine from it when one of his subordinates returned with a bowl filled with water.
Sōnojō took the water and administered the medicine into Gonbee’s mouth.

“Here you go.”

Gonbee worked his mouth and drank.
"You've worked hard, you've worked hard."
"How are you feeling?"
"I feel nothing amiss with my condition. It must be a muscular matter."

“In that case, would you care to ride the horse?”

“I probably can’t ride the horse. Let’s turn back today.”

Before long, Gonbee was carried back on a door plank, but by the time they had set him down in his own room at the construction office, the numbness in his body had completely subsided.
There, Gonbee tried to rise.
Even when upright, his body showed no abnormalities and remained as it always was.

“This is strange—I feel fine. If I’d rested a bit longer like this, I might have healed without knowing it.”

There was Sōnojō.
Sōnojō recalled having suggested the horse to Gonbee.

“At that time, had you ridden the horse, it might have been better.”

“That’s right—had I ridden the horse, I would have certainly healed by now.”

The next day, Gonbee set out again.
And once more went to Ukitsu and arrived before that old man’s house.
Sōnojō was walking to Gonbee’s right.

“It was here, sir.”

Gonbee also nodded.

“That’s right.”

That morning, the door to the old man’s house remained closed.

“Today, he has not yet risen.”

Sōnojō tried to hear Gonbee’s reply, but since there was none, he glanced over.
Gonbee’s body was staggering at that moment, but soon collapsed entirely.

“Lord Ichiki! Lord Ichiki! Could it be the numbness again?”

Gonbee lay supine.

The night had already paled into dawn.

“Lord Ichiki, how are you feeling?”

Gonbee opened his eyes.

“I feel nothing wrong.”

“In that case, perhaps another restorative?”

“No—wait.”

With that, Gonbee closed his eyes and appeared to be thinking of something.
“In that case, would you care to ride the horse?”

“I have matters to ponder—my apologies, but have me carried back on the door plank again.”

Gonbee was carried back on the door plank again, but upon arriving, his body had returned to its original state. Thereupon, Gonbee sent Sōnojō to Kōchi as his proxy with two or three subordinates, while he himself remained at the construction magistrate’s office. About ten days later, one of the subordinates returned and reported that the domain government office had completed its review without delay.

It was the sixteenth day of the sixth month in the seventh year of Enpō (1679).

At that time, Gonbee called Budayū, who had remained at the construction magistrate’s office.

“When we broke Kettle Reef, I made a vow, and it has remained unresolved.”
“Tonight I shall fulfill that vow. Prepare for it.”

Budayū, too, thought that leaving the vow unresolved would not do.

“Let us proceed promptly. Leaving the vow unresolved is unacceptable.”

“Then I leave it to you.”

When Budayū left, Gonbee took a sheet of hanshi paper, swiftly wrote on it with a brush, placed it into an envelope, wrote “Reverend Tsudera Hōjō” on the front, and then slipped it beneath the inkstone.

Written Statement to Be Left Herewith

Though the port hath been eight or nine parts completed, due to six particularly challenging sections at the entrance from prior works—despite increased manpower sustaining progress—the difficulties are declared most extreme. As this now lieth within the samurai’s path of understanding, I hereby fulfill my oath to offer this life unto the gods. That my original intent hath been achieved through Your Reverence’s discernment brings joy as of a thousand autumns in a day—this being the utmost of my resolve. After death, may it be discerned. Inadequately penned.

The Sixteenth Day

Ichiki Gonbee Masatoshi (kaō)

Reverend Tsudera Hōjō

That night held a moon, but dark clouds hung low over the sea, casting gloom. Past eight o'clock, torch fires flared up along the embankment to the port's left side. There knelt Gonbee in his warrior garb from the first prayer, forehead pressed to earth before the altar.

"That my body grows numb must mean the Dragon King claims his due sacrifice. Thus do I gladly yield this self."

Gonbee first cast his helmet into the sea. The pitch-black waters bared white fangs and swallowed it whole. Next he shed his armor and flung it after. Both helmet and armor bore the craftsmanship of Myōchin Nagato no Kami Masa. Lastly he hurled his *tachi*—a blade forged by Sōshū Yukimitsu.

When the subordinates went there the next morning, they found Gonbee had committed seppuku before the altar; judging by the warmth still lingering in the blood staining his brocade small hakama, he must have done so in the predawn hours.

The villagers, upon hearing this, wailed bitterly.
Then, tearing Gonbee’s blood-soaked brocade hakama into small pieces to enshrine as household guardian deities, they divided them among themselves, and after burying his remains at Tsudera Temple, they never let the incense and flowers cease.

When the Meiji Restoration arrived and the separation of Shinto and Buddhism was enforced, they buried the tombstone underground and built a single shrine hall atop it to enshrine him as Ichiki Shrine; then in the fourth year of Shōwa (1929), they cleared the rear mountain to reconstruct the shrine, excavated the tombstone, and even erected a memorial stele beside it.

The surface of this memorial stele was inscribed with “The Monument to the Heroic Deeds of Ichiki Gonbee” by Count Tanaka Mitsuaki’s hand, while its reverse bore a commemorative text selected by Tosa’s eminent scholar Terai Masamichi.